Marks of Respect
by SilverOsprey
Summary: Sometimes, one can learn things even at useless Pandora meetings.


A/N: Hey everyone! Here with another (pointless) oneshot. Happily, it's a bit less angst-filled. I found the prompt at...erm...(coughcoughpandora_kinkcoughcough) and I liked it enough where I wanted to fill it. Especially after Retrace 48! Seriously, I love Rufus Barma! Well, enjoy everyone!

Disclaimer: These are beginning to feel redundant. I do not own.

* * *

**Marks of Respect**

Oz's sigh was long, drawn out, and sounded like a strange cross between the exhausted exhale of an irritated canine and the moan of a large sea-creature. It was the sixth such sigh in half as many minutes. He was, for some reason he had yet to discern, at Pandora Headquarters, attending a meeting at which he wasn't needed, watching Gil and Alice chasing each other around the enormous circular meeting table; Break alternating between making snide, insulting comments at other Pandora members or Vincent Nightray and eating his ubiquitous candies in as obnoxious a manner as possible; Sharon giggling insanely and staring intently at both him and Gil as she read some horrible book that he didn't want to know about; and Rufus Barma's corpulent decoy rolling around on the table in some kind of fit (the tea in the illusion's hat didn't fall out, and that annoyed him more than he wanted to admit). He had tried to stop Gil and Alice from causing such a scene, but they had paid him no mind and even waved off his objections. (Again, he wouldn't admit it, but it was _infuriating!)._

"You do not seem to have very much control over your retainers. And here I thought you still considered yourself heir to the house of Vessalius. However to you plan to become competent in the administration of your dukedom if you cannot even restrain the excesses of your most loyal servant and your bonded chain?" Oz's eyes snapped up to watch as Duke Barma swept up to him; crimson eyes unpardonably amused.

"Duke Barma. " Oz returned, standing up stiffly so that the other man wouldn't tower quite so much over him and smiling winsomely at the other duke. "I have found that mutual respect between servant and master makes the former more prepared to obey the commands of the latter."

"Of course," said the other, sitting down gracefully, a smug half-grin sliding across his face, "that seems to be working beautifully." Barma's eyes glanced over at Gil, who was now pulling a screeching Alice's hair.

Oz had to consciously stop himself from grinding his teeth. _Damn the man! Stupid foreign bastard with his stupid idiot-hair who shouldn't even be part of this country's nobility..._ "Then making sure that nobody knows who I am and tricking everyone into thinking that a ridiculous meat-ball of a man who has no courtesy and appears either insane or delusional is Duke Vessalius is the way to do it?" And if Barma's smile seemed a bit more strained, that was all the better.

"That…is beside the point." Yep, Barma's eyebrow was definitely twitching. "You need to be more authoritative. If your servants do not heed your every order, you will command neither respect nor authority among the lesser nobles and four great duke houses. You appear young, so men will discount you and your opinions automatically. Either that, or they may seek to take advantage of you."

Oz stared. _Is he being serious? This coming from the man who has actually used me to get what he wants on more than one occasion?_ "I'm surprised, Duke Barma. Did you yourself not say that people are of two kinds only, useful or not?" From the way Barma stiffened, it was obvious that he heard the underlying thought as well.

"Yes," Barma hissed. "People are either useful or they are not. And you, you are _useful_. To far more people than just myself. And unlike Xerxes Break, they will not stop using you until you are nothing more than a worthless husk. You cannot have it both ways: that people will honor your position as head of the House of Vessalius and observe the friendship and love between you, your servant, and B. Rabbit and yet see not someone terribly easy to manipulate, as well as the method of manipulation. And they _will_ use you, for one who cannot control his own deserves not the responsibility of the welfare of others."

Oz shrank back before a burning crimson stare. When had this conversation to a topic of such import? And what did it mean that _Rufus Barma_ was making sense, and apparently giving out pertinent information for _free?_

Oz's voice when he responded was quiet and small and intense and sounded vulnerable even to his own ears. "What do you want from me? Why do you care?" _Why are you being so kind?_

Barma shrugged, relaxing once more into his chair. Carefully not looking at Oz, he replied, "You're useful." A beat. "I'm also going to need an ally when dealing with Isla Yura."

Oz couldn't quite suppress the half snort-half shudder at the thought of the foreign cult leader, even as he felt something small and warm expand in his chest. _You're a lot more like Break than you're willing to admit, aren't you, Rufus Barma?_

Finally relaxing back into a chair himself, Oz turned fully to observe the older man. For the first time he really took in the outlandish garb; the obviously foreign crimson colored eyes and impossibly red hair; the barest hints of an accent that was the only remnant of years speaking another tongue. He couldn't quite stop the impish grin as he asked "How do you plan to keep other's respect when they see that you are related in some way to Isla Yura, Sir Rufus?"

The other looked startled, but the smile that quirked his lips was rueful as well. "So you noticed? How did you tell?"

"It's your eyes; you have the same deep red eyes. And, well, I don't think anyone else who makes the connection will be able to take you seriously either."

"Fortunately not many people are as observant as you, Master Oz," Rufus returned dryly.

Oz felt the beginnings of a smirk coming on. "Or what about seeing your interactions with Duchess Sheryl Rainsworth? It's obvious who the one wearing the pants is in that relationship."

Amazingly, Barma took the barb in stride, and simply murmured "_you_ try and deny a Rainsworth woman anything she wants! They're insane and can be more vicious than a pack of lionesses. The whole lot of them!" A shared look at Sharon, still giggling madly over her romance novel, and each other had Oz collapsing in a fit of half-strangled sniggers. Even Rufus had a small, amused smile on his face, which he promptly hid with his fan.

It was Oz's laughter, a sound rare enough to attract Alice's attention that brought her trotting over, with something that looked suspiciously like Gil's cravat in one hand. The dark haired servant followed close behind. Alice's eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Rufus. "Is Idiot-Hair bothering you?" she asked belligerently. Oz frowned at that as Rufus' smile slipped from his face.

"No. No, he's not. And he is Sir _Rufus Barma_, Alice." Oz emphasized. The warm feeling expanded a little bit more at the surprise (and gratitude?) that suffused Barma's face for a moment before the mask of one secure in his own knowledge settled back into place.

Alice studied Oz thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging. "It's your call, Oz." Her gaze sliding to Gil she finished, "It seems like Sir Rufus is okay. Now I told you, seaweed-head, I want some meat!"

"Don't call me seaweed-head! And I'm not your servant! Get your own food, you stupid rabbit!" The two wandered away, squabbling once again.

"Well," Barma mused, "perhaps I have underestimated you. It would appear that you have managed to find that happy median between friendship and obedience after all."

"RUUUUFUUS!" The high, melodic screech that cut Barma off had more than one person jumping and Barma himself cringing and shrinking into his chair. Lady Cheryl Rainsworth appeared at the doorway to the conference room, gingerly being wheeled in by a young Pandora employee. "Where have you _been?_ I've been trying to contact you all morning! There's much I need to tell you about…" Barma hastily took over for the much relieved Pandora member, wheeling the elderly woman towards the other side of the room. Oz simply stared, even as it became evident that with the arrival of Lady Cheryl the meeting would soon begin.

"You know," Break murmured, drifting over, "I don't like the guy, but you've got to respect him for being able to react to Lady Cheryl so well…Makes one wonder just what their relationship is…" Break tossed another candy in his mouth.

Oz simply hummed, nodding in response, watching the curious pair closely. _I think you've found that happy middle way too, Sir Rufus, even if you don't know it yet._

"So, what were you two talking about? Anything interesting?" Break was eyeing him inquisitively.

Oz just shrugged. "Oh, not really. Just what makes a duke."

"Oh? And what is that?"

Oz couldn't help the full smile that bloomed across his face. "Marks of respect."


End file.
